Into the Fire
by Partly
Summary: Marshall and Mary feel the heat.


The smoke hung in the dense air and clung to Marshall. His eyes burned and it was almost impossible to see through the haze, but he could hear Mary stumbling somewhere in front of him. Her steady footfalls crunched the brittle underbrush and he could hear her as she fought her way through the scrub.

They'd been walking for almost three hours, struggling to keep focused and keep moving, with the heat of the fire lapping behind them, smoke and wind whipping at their backs. Jason Nesmith, the witness they were protecting, trudged silently between them. Exhaustion and fear had killed any conversation long ago.

They'd left Salt Lake City at six that morning, planning on driving the twelve hours to Albuquerque straight through, everyone more than happy to put the great state of Utah (and the disaster-filled trial) behind them. Mary had commented that they should have known things were only going to get worse the first time they were detoured off the main highway. After two more detours and six hours of driving they were still ten hours away, fighting through old winding roads that taxed Mary's limited patience.

The wildfire came out of nowhere. They followed a curve and almost ran into the flames and smoke spewing across the road. After a quick U-turn and a half-mile retreat with white knuckles and no phone service, they ran into an identical sight. With the flames climbing up from the pass, they had no choice but to abandon the car and head up to the summit, looking for a ranger station that Marshall had remembered seeing on a map in the last rest area.

The climb abruptly steepened and Marshall focused on the trail ahead. They topped off on a ridge, leaving the smoke behind and below them. Mary slid down a large boulder to sit on the ground, motioning for Jason to do the same.

"The air's better here. We'll take five."

Jason nodded and collapsed on the ground. "I hope you guys know where we're going. But I guess anywhere away from the fire is good."

No one said anything to that. Marshall leaned against a tree, thankful for the fresh air that drifted down to them. There was a distant rumble of thunder and the breeze picked up. They were all exhausted. Jason was stumbling more and more as they walked and Mary's decent into silence was beginning to worry Marshall. He checked his compass again. They just needed to keep going northwest. A road and a river forked off from the ranger station once they ran into either of them, they could follow it to safety.

Unless the fire started climbing faster.

Marshall looked back the way they came. The heavy smoke covered most of the flames, a roiling bank of black and grey. It hovered below them, with only a hint of the flame it hid. A poem jumped to mind.

"_In the other gardens  
And all up the vale,  
From the autumn bonfires  
See the smoke trail!_"

"What?" Mary lifted her head off her knees to look at him. Her face was streaked with soot, her voice tired and thin.

"A poem," Marshall said, "by Robert Louis Stevenson. I memorized it in third grade. It's called 'Autumn Fires'."

"It's the middle of July, you idiot."

Marshall shrugged. "Seemed appropriate."

Mary scoffed and put here head down again. "What sort of nerd remembers anything from third grade anyhow? I don't even remember my third grade teacher's name."

"Mine was Mrs. Finanger," Marshall supplied without missing a beat. "She had a fondness for purple scarves and she kept this box full of trinkets that she'd give out to any student who could memorize the verse of the week."

"Oh God. Please don't tell me that you still have some of those."

"Souvenirs are a link to the past and a valuable reminder of where people come from. Psychologists have long recognized the intrinsic value of keeping items that were of sentimental importance to you throughout your life."

"Jesus, Marshall. Could you be any more of a girl?"

The insult made Marshall smile. Mary almost sounded like herself again. He pushed off the tree and continued with the rest of the poem.

"_Pleasant summer over  
And all the summer flowers,  
The red fire blazes,  
The grey smoke towers._"

"_Sing a song of seasons!  
Something bright in all!  
Flowers in the summer,  
Fires in the fall!_"

"An entire mountain is burning and you think of bonfires." Mary snorted. "I can't believe that I have to listen to this in what very well may be the last hours of my life."

"I could quote Shakespeare if you would prefer something more classical."

"Don't make me shoot you, Marshall."

Jason laughed from where he lay.

"I mean it," Mary insisted. "If I left your body here, the fire would destroy all the evidence."

The breeze was turning into a steady wind and thunder rolled again.

Mary stood. "We better get moving." She looked to Marshall. "We keep heading this way?"

Marshall nodded. "It can't be too far."

"Fine." They lined up again; thankful the smoke had cleared enough for them to see clearly. "Let's go, boys."

Jason dropped back closer to Marshall. "You've memorized some Shakespeare?"

Mary groaned. "Don't encourage him, Nesmith."

"A bit." Marshall ignored Mary. "Did you want to hear something?"

Jason's bright "Yes" was almost drowned by Mary's "I've got more than one bullet you know, I could shoot you both. Most would think it was justified."

Marshall grinned at Jason. "Anything in particular you want to hear?"

"Anything is fine. I just need something to distract me."

Mary moaned again and picked up the pace, muttering threats under her breath.

"I'll stick with the classics, then," Marshall said, clearing his throat and raising his voice just loud enough so he knew Mary would have to hear him.

"_To be, or not to be, that is the question:  
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer…_


End file.
